


motion sickness

by lilacribbon



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Unlocked Spoilers, based on motion sickness by phoebe bridgers, kind of sophie x keefe?? mostly implied, takes place after unlocked, this isn't great but i needed to write something to feel a little better about how unlocked ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacribbon/pseuds/lilacribbon
Summary: MAJOR UNLOCKED SPOILERSsophie didn't know it was possible to hate someone and miss them more than anything in the world at the same time.but then again, keefe was good at breaking rules like that.based on "motion sickness" by phoebe bridgers!
Relationships: Sophie Foster & Keefe Sencen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	motion sickness

**Author's Note:**

> hi! before you go any further, i just want to warn you that there are MAJOR unlocked spoilers in here, so don't read unless you've finished the novella. also some swearing, so if that's not your thing then i would click off. this is based on one of my favorite songs, enjoy!

**_i hate you for what you did._ **

He stood ten feet away from her, back turned towards the coffee stand. He rifled through his backpack, first pulling out a strange cube, which he held out to the barista.

The barista gave him a funny look; the boy shook his blonde hair, muttering a quiet, disgruntled sorry and pulling out his wallet instead.

The barista handed him the coffee, and he immediately took a swig, coughing like it was something much stronger, like it was unfamiliar to him.

Sophie sat on a bench, pretending to read the book in her hand as she watched the boy’s movements.

He paused for a moment to check his phone, and Sophie craned to see his side profile; it _did_ look like him. She couldn’t be sure though.

After all, all those other times she thought it had been him too. And it hadn’t.

Sophie wouldn’t lie and say she had started searching for Keefe as soon as he had left.

At first, she was _angry._ Pissed that he had made this stupid decision again, that he had barely tried to contain his new powers, that he had done what he had _promised_ he wouldn’t do again, time and time again.

So she refused to look. Refused to listen to her friends and family, had just gritted her jaw and focused harder than ever on waging war against the Neverseen. After all, he would come around eventually. He was reckless, and impulsive, but he wouldn’t stay away for long. He couldn’t.

Sophie knew that, after reading his letter and putting together what it was he had felt for her.

But then months passed and there was still no word from him. No notes, no calls, _nothing._

And Sophie missed him. So much.

So, against her better judgment, she stretched out her mind, just like she had always done, and found him. And Sophie would never forget those three words he had told her.

_Stay away, Foster._

And the connection severed. And it stung. It hurt worse than it should have, because he had _left_ her. But still, she leaped to where she knew he was hiding that first time in Italy, staying in some dingy hotel for a week, searching and searching for him. But evidently, he had known Sophie would try to find her because when she finally tracked down his flat, it was completely empty. Nothing was there but mussed bedsheets and a half-filled hair elixir.

Sophie hated him for it. She hated how he had left her, how much she missed him. And most of all, she hated how after that first time, she kept and kept searching for him, transmitting to him and stealing Grady’s leaping crystals just to find empty hotel rooms, empty houses, empty apartments. It was tearing her apart.

So Sophie did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She broke the rules of Telepathy and entered his mind without permission. Sophie only stayed there for a second, because she knew that if she stayed there any longer she would want to talk to him, leap to him, right then, and he would disappear before she could see him again. 

So she stayed quiet, then tracked him down, and followed him to where he was staying in San Francisco. And that was how Sophie found herself on a park bench, studying Keefe Sencen as he wrinkled his nose at the black coffee he had bought himself in an attempt to seem more human.

He was slightly taller, lips pursed in a sad grimace that seemed to be the natural state of his face now. His hair was as perfectly styled as ever, and out of the corner of her eye, Sophie could see two girls ogling him, whispering about the beautiful boy with sad blue eyes. Sophie felt her teeth grit.

And then he turned around, stopping in his tracks as he saw her face, and those stupid, stupidly beautiful blue eyes widened in shock as Keefe whispered, “Foster?”

**_and i miss you like a little kid._ **

And not just the hate, but the love and the longing and the resentment and everything else Sophie had ever felt for Keefe came rushing back into her body. She shook her head to herself as she rose from her seat.

_It’s not the time for those feelings. Not now._

She narrowed her eyes at him, trying her best to shove as much anger as she could in his direction. He winced, and she knew it was working.

“We need to talk, Keefe. Now.”

Keefe took a step back, putting out a defensive hand in front of him. The other gripped his coffee cup, his knuckles white like he was about to crush it any minute.

“No, Sophie, I can’t, I—“

Sophie sighed, trying to hide the hurt in her voice. “When have you ever called me Sophie?”

Keefe’s frightened, panicked expression softened into what Sophie thought might have been regret. “Since I’m… distancing myself. It’s easier this way.”

The anger came flooding back, and Sophie told him in a stone-cold tone, “None of that bullshit. Not today, not now, not ever again. We need to talk, Keefe.”

She reached for his arm, all but ready to drag him back to the Lost Cities, but he yanked it back before he could.

“No touch. Please. I can control the speaking now, but I haven’t touched anyone in months. The last time I touched someone…” Keefe’s eyes clouded, and his look of regret was deeper than before.

“I know what happened, Keefe. It was all over human news,” Sophie informed him. “I tried looking for you after that, you know. But you disappeared.”

Keefe shifted, avoiding eye contact with her. “Sorry about that. But you know I couldn’t stay there. Not when there was footage of me at a concert making an entire crowd go… numb. There were people looking for me, trying to hunt me down. There _are_ people looking for me, still.”

“And I was one of them,” Sophie told him. She narrowed her eyes again. “So we need to talk.”

Keefe gave her a resigned sigh. “Okay. I’ll take you back to my apartment, but only for a few minutes. My lease is only good for a month, and I need to get cleared out of that apartment, like yesterday.”

“I don’t really care about that, Keefe,” Sophie said. “With everything that you’ve put me through, put _everyone_ through, you should be lucky that I’m not asking for a day-long explanation about what you’ve done. So I’m staying until _I_ want to leave. You lost the right to have a say in this the moment you left.”

Keefe sighed. “That’s... fair. I’ll take you there right now.”

His apartment was a sad, dingy, empty affair with gray, peeling walls, a small white refrigerator, and a mattress with messed up sheets. The rest of the studio apartment was bare, spare for the colored pencils and papers strewn across the floor, with maybe ten unfinished drawings laid out next to Keefe’s mattress.

Sophie tried to ignore the way her heart ached when she saw that at least half of them were of her. She was smiling in most of them, some of the drawings in color, some in charcoal, and in all of them, she was wearing the necklace Keefe had given her so many years ago.

Her heart felt like it was about to burst, and Sophie admonished herself for feeling that way. There was no denying how much she hated Keefe for what he had done, how he had abandoned her so easily, but there was something else there too. She felt stupid, childish, for missing him. But still, that raw feeling remained within her, and with every nervous glance Keefe gave her, every time he pushed back a piece of his perfect hair, every time he reached out like he was about to touch her, Sophie was reminded of how long it had been since she had last seen him, and how much she had longed to see him again.

Sophie realized that she had been silently standing in the entry for a while, and tentatively she walked in, shutting the door behind her with a soft _click._

They examined each other for a moment, and Keefe’s eyes seemed to say something much softer than what he said when he finally opened his mouth.

“So, isn’t this the part where you tell me how nice my place is? Ask me for a tour?” Keefe told her, running his hand through his hair. His voice was teasing but nervous, and suddenly the moment was gone and Sophie remembered just how _angry_ she was at him.

“No jokes, Keefe,” Sophie told him, running her hand across the old fridge on the wall. “You know, I would think that being without words for so long would make you stop relying on jokes when it’s time to have an uncomfortable conversation.”

Keefe didn’t reach her eyes as he murmured, “Well, I always seem to go back to my old coping mechanisms when I’m with you, Foster.”

And Sophie felt her stomach burn with rage, and her heart burst with longing. They fought for a moment before the anger took over, and she snarled, “Mechanisms like leaving?”

And the way Keefe’s face fell and his heart seemed to break in real-time almost made Sophie regret what she had said. After an agonizing moment, his gaze finally reached her eyes. 

“I deserve that, Sophie. I deserve that and every other hurtful thing I can feel that you’re about to hurt my way,” Keefe told her, clutching his hand over his heart like it was aching the way hers was, and Sophie was reminded that he could feel everything she was feeling. He grimaced, saying, “So do it. Get mad at me, Foster. Please.”

“I…” And suddenly Sophie was at a loss for words, because _how dare he?_ How dare he leave her like that, and then take all of the awful things she wanted to say to him with grace and understanding?

It was so much better if he fought back, if he was angry too, if she could make him feel the same way she had felt for the past year. This sad resignation was so much worse than the spite Sophie selfishly wanted him to feel, and she wished that he would stop being so… Keefe.

So eager to take the blame, to hurt himself for the benefit of others, to validate her feelings. Why wouldn’t he just be angry, be mean, say something hurtful so she could finally expunge all the longing she felt towards him? He took a step towards her, and Sophie stayed there, paralyzed in place.

“Take all the time you need, Foster,” Keefe murmured, his gaze still so damn sad that Sophie wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap him or kiss him. And for a moment, her rage overtook her, and she snapped, “Stop being so… nice about this!” 

She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. “It makes it so much worse.”

Keefe frowned, shaking his head. “It’s the least I can do. I’ve put you through so much pain already, Foster. I can feel it. The way you hate me.”

Sophie felt bile coat her throat, and her voice caught as she mumbled, “I don’t… hate you.”

Keefe let out a scoffing laugh. “Thanks for lying for my benefit, but you need to stop trying to pretend to Empaths. You hate me, and you should. I deserve it. Take the time to figure out what you need to say, but don’t sugarcoat it, Foster.”

Sophie opened her mouth to deny Keefe’s words, but… they were true. She hated him for what he had done, and still, she missed him, more than anything in the whole world.

She scanned him again. It seemed that Keefe really had adapted to the human world, because he sure dressed like one, with the blue crew neck he wore over his jeans, which were cuffed over dirty white sneakers. He was still handsome as ever, but he seemed… rougher, and it made Sophie’s stomach curl in a way she didn’t particularly like.

“You’re taller,” she whispered, not trusting herself to say anything else.

“I am,” Keefe said quietly, his mouth tightening into a thin frown. “And you cut your hair. It looks good.”

Sophie felt her cheeks burn as she instinctively reached to touch the ends of her hair, which now barely reached her collarbone. “I cut it a few weeks after you left. Sandor says it’s easier for combat that way.”

“How… how are they? Everyone?” Keefe asked her tentatively, like he wasn’t sure if he should be asking her. And he shouldn’t have been asking that.

She shook her head. “No. You don’t get to know specifics. Not yet. Just know that they’re pissed as hell at you. And they miss you.”

Keefe nodded grimly. “Well, I did leave.” 

“You did.”

And they stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Sophie felt the anger and the hurt burn through her stomach, and she knew that she was ready to be angry now. And she had _so_ much anger to release.

“You left me, Keefe,” Sophie told him, curling her fist around the book she was still holding. “I loved you, and you knew that, and you still _left_ me.”

Keefe opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, “I’m going to be mad at you now, and you don’t get to say anything because at this point, you don’t deserve to get to explain, or justify, or work your stupid, charming Keefe magic and make things better.”

Keefe nodded, and said softly, “Okay.”

And the anger burned through Sophie again as she began to raise her voice. “You _left_ me! You knew how I felt because you all but told me in that stupid fucking letter and you still _left_ me! Didn’t even try to control your powers, because you just _had_ to be the one to protect me!” Sophie spat at him. Keefe’s face was paled now, and his knuckles were white with strain as he gripped against his coffee cup so hard it bent. Sophie continued, now yelling as she said, “Haven’t you ever considered for _once_ in your fucking life that it doesn’t protect me when you separate yourself? I know that you have this melodramatic ‘I’m dangerous for you’ narrative that you want to stick to, but you’re not, Keefe, you’re not!”

Sophie paused to take a look at Keefe’s face, which was now twisted with anguish. In some sadist way, it made her want to continue as she yelled, “I hate you for it! I hate that you’re so sweet and understanding when you’re actually here, but then you do these awful things and leave because you think that you know what’s best for me! But guess what? You don’t. Because if you knew what’s best for me, I wouldn’t be standing here trying to keep myself from strangling you and kissing you at the same time. If you knew what’s best for me, I wouldn’t be feeling this awful _motion sickness_ while my love for you and my hate for you battle it out!”

She took a deep shuddering breath, trying to compose herself as she realized that Keefe’s neighbors could probably hear this entire exchange. “I just… it’s exhausting, Keefe, having to do this every time you hurt me. I’m never going to be able to scream at you or hate you enough to make the way I miss you go away. I want everything to go back to the way it was, but it… can’t.”

Her voice cracked as she continued, telling him, “I can’t trust you, Keefe. And I wanted to trust you so damn bad, but you keep betraying me over, and over, and over again. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again.”

Keefe opened his mouth, his eyes searching for Sophie’s approval to speak. She nodded to him, brushing a rebellious tear out of her eyes. He took a deep breath in. “I know. And honestly, I’d be concerned if you tried to trust me right away after all the shit I’ve put you through.”

He stopped to take a swig of his black coffee, grimacing as he muttered, “Ugh, I’m never going to get used to how bad this takes. But that’s beside the point.”

“It is.”

Keefe paused for a second, searching her eyes with his. His voice caught in his throat, rasping as he told her, “I regretted it. As soon as I left. I was just standing there in the middle of some art museum in Italy, because it was the only human place I could think of that wasn’t San Diego, gripping onto that stupid blue crystal, thinking, ‘What the fuck did I just do?’ I was stranded without being able to speak to or touch anyone, and even though I can speak sign language now, not everyone knows it. So before I figured out how to manage the speaking commands, I was completely isolated. And I’ve regretted it ever since, which I know won’t make you feel any better, but that’s the truth.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better, Keefe,” Sophie told him quietly. “But it does help to know that you were upset.”

He gave her a small chuckle, and Sophie realized with sadness that it was the first time she had seen him smile in months. 

“There’s that Foster feistiness I’ve missed,” Keefe said, the smile fading when Sophie raised an eyebrow at the familiarity with which he had spoken to her. “Sorry. We’re not there yet. Building back trust. But… anyways, that first time you reached out… I wanted so badly just to let you track me and come back. But my mom was still looking for me. I know that. She sent Gethen to me. And others, too; I had to fight them off once. I just… didn’t want to be the person that leads her straight towards you. Which is dumb and counterintuitive because she could find you anywhere, but I made my mistake and decided I had to live with the consequences. It’s irrelevant now anyway since they’ve stopped coming. I think she wants me to come back to her on my own.”

Sophie cleared her throat uncomfortably, saying, “Yeah, the last time we met up… she said something about that.”

“I figured she would. I had to move every few weeks to cover up my tracks,” Keefe told her, fidgeting nervously beneath himself. “I couldn’t cook human food, so I’d go to cafes and order takeout online. I had to buy a phone.”

He held out a sleek phone that looked technologically advanced for a human, and Sophie was reminded of how much the human world had changed since she’d left it. Maybe later, when she was less angry at Keefe, she would ask him about those changes, but she wasn’t ready to have a normal conversation with him. Not yet.

“And then the Neverseen stopped trying to find me,” Keefe continued. “And I managed to start controlling the speaking portion of my powers. So I was able to stay in San Francisco and just move apartments every now and then. I started taking college classes online, for fun. They’re really easy, but they keep me busy, and it’s entertaining watching humans pretend they understand astronomy.”

Against her own will, Sophie choked back a laugh. Keefe seemed encouraged by this and quietly said, “And I started therapy.”

Sophie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and curiosity. “Therapy?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Do you know what that is or is it some obscure human thing?”

“No, I know what it is.”

“Well, I talked about my dad,” Keefe said, rubbing a hand behind his neck nervously. When Sophie raised an eyebrow in skepticism, he quickly said, “I didn’t mention the elvin world or Foxfire or anything, but I opened up about all of the abusive things he did to me. And it was… freeing. That’s one thing I like about the humans. They actually talk about mental health and abuse; they don’t just skirt around it like elves do. I think it’s the only medical science they’ve sort of gotten right.”

Sophie nodded, her mouth dry as she listened to Keefe explain himself. He continued, nervously, like he wasn’t sure he should continue. “Anyway, I just… I know you’re not going to trust me again for like, hundreds of years, if ever, but… now that you’ve found me, I want to stay in contact. And I’ve changed. I know how to combat my coping mechanisms now, and I’m not running away. I’m _here_. And I’m ready to do whatever you need me to do to start regaining that trust.”

“Well…” Sophie trailed off. Could she really trust him again? With everything he had done and all the countless ways he had hurt her? Was she willing to let him break her heart again? 

And then she looked at his stupid, stupid beautiful face, and the way his hair was curling over his sad blue eyes, and the way he was standing in front of her so vulnerably, and that awful longing took over her heart again. 

And all she wanted was for him to come back to the Lost Cities, so she could slap the shit out of him, and then strangle-hug him until he couldn’t breathe. 

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “The first thing you can do is come back and apologize to everyone. Which I know is big… but if you don’t do it, then we’re done here. Because as much as I want you in my life, Keefe, I need you to _be there_. And stop running when things get tough.”

Keefe nodded vigorously. “Okay. I— that’s not ideal, but okay, I can do it.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like a solid yes to me. I mean it, I’m done with half-assed apologies. I’m not willing to let myself be hurt by you again. If you don’t think you can do this fully, then don’t come back.”

Keefe shook his head vigorously, as he took a step towards her, that pleading look clouding his eyes again. “No, no, Foster, I’m ready. I’m scared to see everyone again, but I’m ready to be here for real. No more emotional motion sickness, I promise.”

And that time he did reach for her hand. Sophie braced herself for the numbness as he strained his face, trying to prevent his power from taking over, but when nothing happened, he tangled his hand with hers, squeezing it tight.

“I don’t believe you when you say that,” Sophie whispered to him, feeling her throat tighten at the contact as she tried to hold back a sob. It didn’t work, and she let it out in a loud hiccup as a tear splashed onto the floor. When she finally built up the courage to look up at Keefe, she could see tears swimming in his eyes too.

“I know,” he murmured in a strangled voice, evidently trying to hold back tears too. “I can feel it. But I hope you’ll try to believe me.”

She nodded. “I will. If you try too. You have to try for this to work.”

“I will.”

Sophie stared at his hand in hers, trying to make sense of the mess of feelings it brought her. On one hand, she was still so _pissed_ at him, but… it had been so long since she had felt the warmth of Keefe’s hand in hers, and once again she was reminded of how strongly she had missed him, and how badly she wanted to believe that his words were true this time.

Taking a deep breath in, she whispered, “Can I hug you?”

Keefe gave her a wavering nod, and tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He stayed there, paralyzed for a second, and then wrapped his arms gently around her waist, resting his chin on her forehead as he sunk into the hug.

And then they were both crying softly, leaking tears onto each other as they held one another.

Through a sob, Sophie mumbled into his shoulder, “You know I’m going to let Fitz and Biana drop kick you as soon as you set foot inside Everglen, right?”

Keefe let out a muffled, strangled sort of laugh through his sniffing. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Foster. I missed you. So much.”

And Sophie’s voice cracked as she whispered, “I missed you too, Keefe.”


End file.
